


Pouring Out Poison

by worddancer



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: But a Little Smut, Consensual Sex, During the War, F/M, Healing, Rebels, Sex, Texas Rangers, Unhealthy Sex, not smut, patriots, what is tagging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-19
Updated: 2016-02-19
Packaged: 2018-05-21 15:15:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6056356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/worddancer/pseuds/worddancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If there had been no blackout, no war, no devastation this never would have happened. </p>
<p>Or if it had happened it would have been scorned. He would be a dirty old man, she would be a foolish girl with daddy issues. </p>
<p>Charlie knew you couldn’t rub dirt on dirt and expect it to become clean. Charlie knew that rubbing bloody hands in more blood just made them bloodier. </p>
<p>If two poisonous people dumped their poison into each other did it really count?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pouring Out Poison

**Author's Note:**

> Here with my second Charloe piece. This one is a bit dark but I see these two being a bit dark. I find the idea of these two having unhealthy, dump all of your emotions into each other sex and it moves to healthier sex into actually healthy relationship sex. I just wrote the first one and skipped the last two

If there had been no blackout, no war, no devastation this never would have happened. 

Or if it had happened it would have been scorned. He would be a dirty old man, she would be a foolish girl with daddy issues. 

That might even still be true. Her father(?) was dead, her mother who had been dead was alive and sleeping with her uncle(father?). If that wasn’t a cesspool for family issues and trauma one could always toss in the war. The devastation. The destruction. The bodies. 

Danny.

Her father.

Nora.

Maggie.

Shelly.

All of the Rebels.

All of the Militia.

All of the Patriots.

All of the Rangers.

So many bodies, so much blood stained both their hands, she couldn’t see anything clean in herself anymore. Who cared if he was just as dirty?

If there wasn’t a blackout she wouldn’t have ever held a sword. She never would have shot a gun with the intent to kill. She never would have killed. She never would have led War Clans and fought battles along side him. If there was no blackout her mother never would have left, her uncle would have been in her family’s dirty little secret, Bass would have been her uncle’s best friend and brother. She would be clean. 

But the blackout did happen. 

The lights turned off and the world went to hell. She grew into adulthood with her hands seeped in blood. 

Charlie was a war baby. She turned from girl to woman amongst bloodshed and broken bodies. She hunted a man who either killed or had been responsible for killing her family. That man saved her. She saved him. They fought together side by side. Bass turned from an enemy to her uncle’s best friend and one of her only friends. Her hands were just as dirty as his. Her soul was just as stained. She had been born in peace, raised in conflict and grew in war. She couldn’t be anything else.

He couldn’t either. There was very little that was gentle about either of them anymore. Softness had been put into the fire and pounded hard on a blacksmith's anvil. There was nothing but sharp edges and smooth, hard surfaces. They weren’t good for each other, rubbing two dirty cloths together doesn’t make either of them clean after all. They weren’t good for anyone else though so she guessed it didn’t matter in the end. 

She couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it started. When everything became too much and she felt too much and at the same time not enough and she just needed a way to get that energy OUT of her. She recognized it on the road to Willoughby. She felt it building and growing in her skin. It started in the pit of her stomach, a curling ball of _something_ . It wasn’t fear, it wasn’t excitement. She knew those emotions intimately. It settled in her stomach, made its home in her skin and kept her from sleeping easy or sitting still. 

It wasn’t him. Not at first. He just existed in her space. Maybe it was anticipation, anticipation at seeing her family again. Anticipation of traveling with a man she vowed to kill. Anticipation of the storm she could feel brewing in her very bones. The feeling grew from her stomach and seemed to ripple and crackle across her skin, it threatened to burst out of her and hit everything in it’s wake. 

The storm hit them and the feeling didn’t go away. The land that used to be a single country imploded once again. A defunct government from over a decade ago came back and demanded to be recognized. Demanded to be given the labor of the ones that came before. Demanded that the ones who stayed, the ones who tried (failed and succeeded) to build order in the chaos step aside and grant their power to strangers. 

When you have to choose to dance with one devil or another you can only hope you choose the lesser of two evils. 

Her mother, her uncle(father?), grandfather, enemy turned friend, they all were thrown back into the blood shed they tried to escape. They didn’t have a choice.

Charlie was tired of not having a choice. 

That’s another time when things started to change. Miles was still looking for atonement, deep down he truly believed if he found the right fight he could wipe his soul clean. Rachel didn’t hold those notions of becoming clean but she thought if she followed this man it could wipe away the betrayal of the family she left. Gene would follow his daughter anywhere while he tried to clean his own soul. Aaron had nowhere else to go and the guilt of creating the nano that destroyed the world. 

Charlie knew you couldn’t rub dirt on dirt and expect it to become clean. Charlie knew that rubbing bloody hands in more blood just made them bloodier. 

Sebastian knew his soul would never be clean, he didn’t bother to try. He just wanted to hold on to what pathetic nothing he had left. A woman who hated him, a best friend who hated him, two men who could care less if he lived or died, and a woman who tried to kill him and now grudgingly trusted him. 

That’s when he became part of it. Part of the anticipation. He was the only person she cared about who wasn’t trying to wash away his sins. He was the only person who knew that the past wouldn’t just disappear. He was the only one who didn’t try to change that. 

Libraries and bookstores were the only places not overly raided in those first years. Some for firewood and kindling when it was needed in the first winter but largely they were left as shrines to a forgotten time. Still books were heavy, impractical and precious. Maggie had several medical textbooks she carefully guarded. For Charlie’s sixteenth birthday Maggie gave her a book of histories greatest plays. 

Shakespeare's MacBeth was one of them.

Now almost seven years later Charlie could still recall the scenes of a desperate woman trying to scrub the blood off her hands. 

Charlie had thought the woman foolish then as she thought her mother foolish now.

What you did today did not wipe your slate clean. Rachel could follow Miles to the ends of the earth and it wouldn’t matter. She still had left her husband and her children for all the right and all of the wrong reasons. 

Miles still created the man that became a dictator. Miles still ran when he could have turned Bass back. 

Gene still helped douchebags torture people in exchange for medicine. 

Aaron still created the nano and left his wife. 

After awhile the scales just didn’t matter anymore. Blood was blood. Sooner or later you just had to accept you’d never be clean again. 

Sebastian accepted this and she did too. 

Working for Texas made Charlie feel like a caged animal, let out on a leash and told where to hunt. She thought if she stood still she might vibrate out of her very skin. The feeling was back in the pit of her stomach at every twist and turn. It flowed up her throat and almost shoved words out of her mouth, angry words, short words, words aimed to hurt the few people she cared about. She saw him watching her and wondered if this is how he’d felt. 

After Shelley died.

After Miles left.

After he attacked that camp.

After everything went tits up so spectacularly. 

By the understanding in his eyes she thought he might. 

Then there was Conner. The secret son. Maybe that’s when it really changed. Or became mutual. Or they knew it to be mutual. Charlie didn’t know.

She didn’t care either. The storm was building inside both of them. Two idiots who never learned how to deal with their emotions in a healthy way. Just look at Rachel- Charlie thought it might just be fucking genetic on her end. They both knew that if they didn’t do something, anything, to let it out the resulting explosion would take out everything it touched. 

So they came together somewhere outside of Mexico. There was nothing sweet or gentle about it, neither of them knew what sweet or gentle was anymore. It was all teeth and claws. They imploded on and around each other, swallowing their cries in each others mouths with teeth clashing together. When they were done she had fingerprint bruises on her hips and teeth marks on her breasts. He had scratched gouged into his chest and back and her bite marking his shoulder. 

Still her stomach felt calm and her skin no longer crackled and he no longer vibrated.

She lied to herself and said it was no different than the clumsy fumbling in the woods she did with boys in Wisconsin. She lied and said it was no different than the hurried fuck with Jason while she searched for her uncle and brother. 

She lied and said it wouldn’t happen again. She almost believed it too. 

For two weeks they acted like nothing happened. Than Blanchard gave them a shit assignment that went south quick. They had bad intel because of bad scouting. They’d been separated from Rachel, Conner and Miles and were holed up on some shitty cabin in the middle of bumfuck nowhere on the edge of a forgotten lake while skies dumped every bit of moisture on top of them.

When they finally got a small fire going she’d had enough. She was wet, she was tired and she knew if she didn’t do something she’d explode out of her skin. The skin that crackled with the lighting in the air. She pushed Sebastian against the wall roughly before falling down to her knees. She tore his pants open and pushed them down his hips until his cock sprang free. She swallowed him down as deep as she could with her nails digging into the flesh of his ass. She bobbed her head up and down until she felt his muscles clench and hands fist tightly into her hair. She pulled her mouth off his cock with a pop before standing up.

“I need you to fuck me now.”

For a moment they stared at each other, their clothes dripped wet onto the floor, his cock hung comically hard between them with his pants tangled around his thighs. He nodded once before he gripped her hips tightly and backed her up until her ass hit the battered couch. He roughly spun her around and pushed her shoulder blades until she bent at the waist. Practiced hands undid her own pants and shoved them roughly down her hips until they tangled in her ankles. 

He plunged two fingers into her waiting pussy, stretching her open. His dick nestled between her ass cheeks as his other hand came around to pluck and twist her nipples. His legs kicked hers as far apart as her pants would allow. When she was barely ready for him he plunged in hilt deep and caused her to cry out in a mix of pain and pleasure. He paused for a moment pushing her wet shirt up until she got the idea and took it off.  Again he barely waited for her to adjust before pulling his hips back and snapping them forward. He set a brutal pace. Every thrust of his hips sent hers slamming into the couch in front of her. She knew in the morning there would be bruises dotted along the contact points. His left hand dug into her hip, steadying her to take the impact while his right hand snaked between her legs and scissored over her clit. 

When she came she let the scream that had been building in her chest rip itself from her body as her legs turned to jelly. Sebastian held her up before leaning her weight over the couch and pumping a few more times until he pulled out and came over her back with his own shout. They didn’t move for several minutes, breathing heavily as the fire crackled in front of them. After a moment Sebastian pushed his pants down and off before walking to the window and ripping off one of the curtains. 

“Here, use this. We can wash in the lake tomorrow.”   


“I can’t fucking reach the middle of my shoulders. You do it, you put it there.”

His hands were surprisingly gentle as he ran the scratchy fabric over the drying seman on her back. 

“We’ll meet up with them at the checkpoint tomorrow. Here’s as good as any place to stay. At least it’s dry and there’s some chairs we can burn for firewood.” 

“I think I saw some old blankets in the other room, and a real mattress.”

They ended up dragging the mattress into the main room and banking the fire and falling asleep. In the morning he woke her with his head buried between her legs and when they left he had his own bruises and bites trailed down his chest.    


They fall into a pattern after that.

  
Charlie didn’t lie and say it won't happen again. Whenever the world feels like it’s about to explode she sought him out and rode him until she could sit in her own skin again. Each time left them both bruised and spent. 

If two poisonous people dumped their poison into each other did it really count?

Miles pretended he didn’t know what they did. How every meeting with the fucking Rangers led one of them to wherever the other was sleeping. He saw it, he did the same with Rachel but he didn’t have to acknowledge it. 

Rachel tried to. She tried to corner Charlie one day and demand answers and reasons. Charlie stopped Rachel before she could get started with two words.

“Dad. Miles.”

Aaron and the general had made peace with each other and the computer genius knew a thing or two about holding on to whatever kept you sane.

Gene just wanted his daughter and granddaughter safe and as happy as they could be. He didn’t like exactly how they choose to do that but he could live with it. 

They weren’t good for each other. Not in the way it was before the blackout. They were two damaged and broken people collapsing and breaking on one another so they could pick up the resulting pieces. Bloody hands did not wash bloody hands and expect them to come clean. 

If the blackout never happened there never would have been a reason for them to happen. They wouldn’t have been broken, beaten and bloodied by life. They wouldn’t have had their edges hardened into steel. They wouldn’t have crashed together again and again.

But the blackout did happen. 

In this new, fucked up world they did what they had to do to hold themselves together. 


End file.
